


The musing of a servant girl

by Cattuesmountain



Series: The musing of ... [1]
Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), Points of View
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 16:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19704919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattuesmountain/pseuds/Cattuesmountain
Summary: Do you remember the scene where Catherine tells Diane that she's glad that she doesn't have Henry grinding on top of her because he's having fun with others? This scene was haunting me for a long time and I always wanted to bring it up in another context.Other Person POV





	The musing of a servant girl

Disclaimer:"Reign" or the characters used in it are not mine, sad but true :-( Violations of any rights are not intended.  
Pairing: kind of Catherine/Henry – Cathry  
Rating: T  
Catergory: other person POV  
Remarks: like all my other fanfiction, this story has been written in my native language (German) and I've translated it.

So I just came up with this little idea as I needed to write some fluffy little piece as a stand alone. I actually love unusual POV's and I needed to experiment with in-eye-view and take a short break from the bigger projects to be able to finish something. I hope some of you enjoy this little excursion into a strangers point of view.

The musing of a servant girl

Huge snowflakes dance through the cloudy winter sky in a dense drift of snow and bury the royal gardens under a thick blanket of freshly fallen snow. Frost traceries have formed on the glass of the windows that ray in a silver glint in the pale shine of fire- and candlelight. I love the winter, the purity of the first snow and its power to spread a cloak of calmness over the land.  
"Don't stare into space, girl. Make haste!" Claudette's words jar me out of my reverie and remind me that I am not here to lose myself in daydreams. I swallow briefly, then I nod and tear myself away from the captivating sight of pre-Christmas quietness of the outside world to bring myself back to the here and now.

There is some hectic hustle and bustle going on that finally catches up on me. Housemaids, kitchen boys and the servants of the royal family whir around the bakehouse, preparing the afternoon tea for the ladies' salon. The baker's wife is still busy decorating an impressive, three-tier cake with cream and fresh fruit at the other end of the room, while her husband yells at one of the lads that burnt a pot of semolina.

"Will you kindly make yourself useful?!" Claudette, our head of kitchen staff, hisses and thrusts two cans of boiling hot, freshly brewed tea in my hands and shoos me out of the bakehouse.

"Shall I really ... I mean, I've never...?" I nearly choke on the unspoken words that are stuck in my throat. But nobody is here to answer my question anyway.

I stare at the cans in my hands in confusion. The hot handles are already queasily burning my fingers.  
"Come on, what are you waiting for?" Michelle appears behind me with a tray full of pastry and biscuits that smell like cinnamon and fresh gingerbread. I follow her, glad that I don't have to face the highborn principalities all by myself.

This is the first time the task of serving her royal Highness and her ladies in waiting has fallen to me. So far - apart from my duties in the kitchen - I have only been allowed to set the table, carry out cold plates, clear tables or polish cutlery.

With increasing nervousness I hurry after Michelle who does not even seem to be the least bit excited about our upcoming task.  
Michelle is two years older than me. She comes from a nearby village and has been working in the castle for over a year now. Unlike me, Michelle is tall and thin like a broomstick. She has hazel eyes and auburn hair she has to hide under a grey hood like me. I know that she dreams of ascending the position of her Majesties chambermaid.

I for my part have only met Queen Catherine twice and I would be lying if one of those encounters had not terribly frightened me, even if her harsh words weren't meant for me but for the poor clumsy boy who had almost collided with her Grace. Just the thought of this incident makes me break out into a cold sweat. I never want to be at the receiving end of a display of bad temper of the legendary Medici Queen.

The guard immediately opens the door as soon as we reach the salon and a second later I find myself drawn into a completely different world. Elegant ladies in beautiful, elaborate robes that shine in all colors of the rainbow have gathered here to spend the afternoon in the company of her Majesty. And while I'm still mesmerized by the sight of feminine beauty and grace, Michelle steers for an enormous table where she puts down her heavy plate. I want to copy her but she just shakes her head vigorously.  
"No silly, we' re going to serve the tea," she informs me and I stare at her blankly while my knees go weak and threaten to quit their service.  
"What?" I croak out and am rudely pulled aside by Michelle to make room for two young men carrying in the splendid cake.  
"It's very simple, you just ask the lady if she would like to have some and then you pour her tea." She pushes me towards a table where the Queen of Scots sits with her ladies in waiting.

"Um, tea?", I stutter with an unnaturally high voice while I wait for the ground to open up and swallow me. To my surprise, Queen Mary gives me a hearty, almost comforting smile and nods her head. I'm trying for a smile as well but I'm rather sure that it looks more like a grimace. My hands are shaking while filling her cup first and then the cups for Lady Lola, Lady Aylee and Lady Kenna.

"She has some nerve showing up here!" The latter suddenly hisses and for a brief moment I assume that she's talking about me. But then I notice that the eyes of all ladies are directed at an older, dark-haired woman in a jade-green dress, who has just entered the salon. Lady Diane de Portiers, the official mistress of the King.  
"She has as much right to be here as you do." Lady Aylee counters with a lowered voice and sips at her tea. Her hair has the same color as mine, but unlike me she wears it down and loose, except for some braided strands that are beautifully crested with plenty of beads.  
The dark-haired Lady Kenna shakes her head in annoyance and starts complaining about the other woman.  
I curtsy awkwardly but none of them takes notice so I remove myself from their table to offer the other ladies present some tea.

To my surprise, a similarly heated discussion is taking place at the next table, but this time it's about Lady Kenna. Lady Eugenie, a dark-haired beauty and only a few years older than Lady Kenna, is leaning over to her acquaintance, a weighty old lady with gray hair and a pinched expression on her wrinkled face. Eugenie is wearing a dream made of turquoise-blue silk with a daring neckline and has only arrived at court two days ago. And she is quite obviously upset about his Majesty's young concubine.  
"No man appreciates being pressed by a woman. Especially not a King. The flesh may be ever so firm and her body willing. I've heard that he has even forbidden her to open her mouth while banging her because he can no longer bear her voice. What a pesky little thing."  
The older of the two women pats Lady Eugenie's hand in a reassuring gesture.  
"Do not fret about this dull child. Surely King Henry will be more than happy about your visit, my dear." Then both of them throw an angry glare in Lady Kenna direction who wasn't even aware of being in focus of their hostile tirade.

I turn away, trying to block out the conversations I've picked up but to no avail.  
Involuntarily my gaze wanders to the table Michelle has claimed for herself. The one where her Royal Highness, Catherine de Medici is sitting with two of her ladies in waiting.  
I look briefly at the queen and can not help but admire her for her straight and regal posture. Our monarch wears a high-necked red dress, adorned with plenty of black and golden embroidery. Unlike most women in this room, her hair is lavishly pinned up and only a few red-blond tresses frame her face occasionally or fall down her neck.  
Her intelligent and watchful hazel eyes are constantly wandering over those present in the salon. What is she thinking? Does she know that at least three of these women were sharing her husband's bed? If so, she was hiding her feelings well behind a mask of royal indifference.

When I notice that my jug is empty, I return to the table where someone promptly presses a knife into my hand and instructs me to cut the cake to hand it out to the ladies.  
Ironically Lady Diane is the first to appear in front of me and I cut off a reasonably sized piece of cake for her. Just when she is about to turn around and leave, Lady Kenna shows up next to the table. Her light, delicate lilac dress with transparent, barely there sleeves contrasts with the pompous, green dress of the older woman. I look questioningly in her direction, but she avidly ignores me and addresses her rival instead.

"I admire how carefree you can indulge in such an ample treat. Apparently Henry does not care whether there's an increase in your avoirdupois. Well, it seems you are in good company."  
Lady Kenna casts a derogatory glance towards the queen who is thankfully engrossed in a conversation with one of her ladies at this moment and does not witness her insult.  
"Evidently you don't know anything about Henry. He certainly appreciates soft feminin curves at the right places. Of course, a little naive girl with a boyish figure doesn't understand anything about men's needs."  
Lady Kenna has no answer to this insult and contents herself with throwing an angry glare at her rival. With a smug smile on her lips Lady Diane turns around and just leaves the younger one behind.

"What are you waiting for?! Just give me a slice of the gateau. A big one!" The King's young mistress harshly urges me on and I hurry to comply with her request.  
Before she can return to her table, Lady Eugenie appears right behind her and I pray to God that no other scene like the one I just witnessed will take place in front of me. But my prayers are in vain.  
"Oh look, my former lover's new plaything. Up close you look rather ordinary. That's almost disappointing." These rude words prompt Lady Kenna to turn around in annoyance.  
"How dare you say that?!" She asks angrily but Lady Eugenie just waves her off with a smile.  
"Just enjoy it as long as it lasts. But please do not wait for him tonight." Lady Eugenie takes a meaningful pause before she goes on. "After all, we are going to celebrate our reunion," she says dreamily.

"Well, I doubt that, my dear Lady Eugenie. As far as I can remember, Henry did not even shed a tear after your hasty departure three years ago. Come to think of it, he actually seemed rather relieved." Diane de Portiers has silently approached the two contestants like a predatory cat ready to attack and now all three of them are standing in front of my table, staring hostile at each other.  
I am nervously moving from one foot to the other, wishing myself far away. Away from this table, away from this salon, even away from court.

Driven by despair I let my eyes wander when no less than Catherine de Medici catches my eyes. And while I'm still wondering if it's even allowed to openly stare at the Queen of France, she signals for me to bring her a piece of cake. I eagerly nod like an idiot, cut off a generous piece for her and hurry to her table. As I approach her I almost faint when I sense the aura of power that surrounds this woman. With shaky hands I serve the cake while trying to catch my breath in order to get some oxygen into my lungs.

"Be a dear and pour me some more tea, child," she instructs me and I actually like the deep and melodious timbre of her voice once the biting undertone is gone. I curtsy awkwardly and hurry back to my table. To my relief the teapot has already been refilled so I immediately return to her Grace. First I serve her, then her ladies. This time my hands aren't shaking as badly as before.

"I admire you for your self-control and composure. Personally, I could not tolerate..."

One of her ladies who is incessantly staring at Kind Henry's three mistresses cuts herself off and raises her hand to cover her moth in alarm. "Excuse me, your Majesty, I should have..."  
"What is it you would have done in my position? Scratch out their pretty big eyes? Or maybe poison them? Oh, Mathilde, you have to look at it from a different perspective. They distract him while I can pursue my own goals rather undisturbed. Let him extend himself with them because that way I don't have him grinding on top of me."  
Her words provoke her ladies to giggle nervously and make my ears go hot. My face is probably turning red as a tomato.

"But judging by the number of his affairs, your husband should be a more than passable lover."  
It is not okay to overhear their conversation. But no matter how morally wrong this may be and how much it ashames me, I just can't walk away.  
"Maybe he could if he would make some serious effort. But who am I to tell? You'd better ask them." Catherine de Medici points at the women in question.

I shut my eyes for a second or two to collect myself. When I open them again I stare directly at King Henry who has appeared right behind his wife unnoticed. And judging by his grimly set face he has witnessed her disdainful evaluation of his abilities as a lover.

He walks around her table in complete silence and throws her an intense look that is difficult to interpret.

However, before he can address his Queen, Lady Diane, Lady Kenna and Lady Eugenie have spotted him and rush towards him. They literally surround him and tout for his attention. None of them is paying any attention to his facial expression which threatens to get out of control.

I risk a glimpse at his wife, who is watching the recent events taking place in front of her with an amused look on her face. Then she flashes her ladies a knowing glance I would probably interpreted as 'I've told you, haven't I?'  
I admire her for her calm stoicism and the superiority that exudes from every fiber of her being.  
But there is something else as well. Something vulnerable. And how can it not be there?  
According to the rumors her husband has been betraying her from the beginning of their marriage. I can not even imagine what it must feel like to be constantly exposed to public humiliation. To watch your own husband go after countless women right before your eyes.

"Henry, do tell that it's me you want to see tonight, yes!?" Lady Kenna purrs in a unbearable high voice that pulls me out of my thoughts.  
"We have not seen each other for years, Henry! You can not possibly prefer a night with this child over our reunion? "I feel ashamed on behalf of these women who debase themselves without any self-respect towards a man who looks anything but pleased.

Diane de Portiers, silently looking at his face, puts her hand on the Kings arm to let actions speak instead of words. But when she tries to make eye contact, he turns his attention away from her and looks with a thoughtful expression on his attractive face at his wife instead.

Her eyes meet his and it seems to me that an entire dialogue takes place between them in the few seconds they are staring at each other. To my surprise a mischievous smile appears on his lips the moment their connection breaks.  
Determined, he loosens the hands of his clingy mistresses from his arm and his chest, then he walks to the door without any haste.  
Before leaving the salon, however, Henry Valois turns around one more time, letting his eyes wander over the ladies present. Then they focus on his regal wife.  
"Catherine, I expect you in my chambers tonight."

Without giving her a chance to come up with an answer, the King leaves the room as sudden as he has appeared. Quite obviously he wasn't about to put up with her passing open criticism on his matrimonial and amorous skills.

A small sound of utter surprise escapes the Queen's throat and all eyes of the women present are directed at her. Catherine de Medici snorts angrily and stares at the closed door.  
"Henry!" Suddenly she jumps up and storms behind her husband with flying skirts.  
And despite this mix of anger, irritation and humiliation that is clearly written all over her beautiful face, she is still the most majestic person I've ever met.

The End


End file.
